Saturday, October 20, 2012

Could anything top Egypt?After our last trip there, still overwhelmed
by this strange, yet magnetic country, my husband Peter and I talked about
other possible travel destinations.The
city that kept coming up in our talks was Istanbul, the largest city in Turkey.Istanbul, like Cairo, is an ever-expanding
city, sucking people from the surrounding countryside like a vacuum
cleaner.Like Cairo, no one is sure
exactly how many people live there, but the estimates are, also like Cairo,
somewhere between 15 and 17 million inhabitants.

Before this city was named Istanbul
it was called Constantinople, the capital of Byzantium, a city we read about in
history class.Constantinople is the
name of the city I was most familiar with, because of history classes.But now that I live in Germany, I keep
hearing about Istanbul.And Istanbul
seemed a logical place to travel to – it is another Muslim culture to explore, now
that we’ve seen much of Egypt.It’s also
a city with a lot more sunshine and warmth in October, when we decided to
travel, than Cologne.

But Turkey
as a travel goal?The name is
reminiscent of big, fat, clumsy Thanksgiving birds.Believe it or not, the two names are
connected.Way back in the 1500s or so,
traders brought a bird species from Madagascar to Europe through Turkey, the
guinea fowl.It was thus nicknamed the “turkey
fowl”.When Spanish explorers to the new
world returned to Europe with a similar-looking bird, they simply called this
species “turkey”.http://hotword.dictionary.com/turkey/Turkey – something to eat for Thanksgiving.

Turkey gets
a pretty bad rap in Germany.Turkish
immigrants form the largest group of foreigners living in Germany – estimates
range from one and a half to two and a half million people, depending on
whether children are counted.Turkish
children born in Germany are considered German until the age of eighteen, when
they must decide which nationality to take, so they don’t count in the
statistics.We hear stories about
parents who keep their children home from school, or children who do go to
school, but who aren’t allowed to take part in sports.We hear about strapping macho teenage boys
who terrorize other students, who then have to keep their mouths shut about it,
because Germans dare not say anything negative about non-Germans.Germans are always afraid of being called Nazis
if they open their mouths to protest about anything.We hear about Turks who have lived in Germany
for over thirty years and who don’t speak a word of German.I heard my mother-in-law talk when she was
still alive, of unhygienic Turks who polluted the air with their garlic
breath.Of course, these people are
different from those in Istanbul, many Germans are quick to say.Germany gets the uneducated, religiously
conservative peasants from villages in Anatolia.I have even heard it said that the Turks
living in Istanbul are a different race from those living in east Anatolia.

On the
other hand, Turkey is one of the USA’s most important allies, and it is a very
important, strategic NATO power.Turkey
has been trying to get into the European Union for several years, but
roadblocks keep getting put up in their way.They are not modern enough, not democratic enough, not western enough, Turkey
is not in a literal sense even European, write the pundits.And yet, we also hear of tremendous leaps
forward in their economy.We hear that
this is a nation that is working.

It was time
to go and see for ourselves.

*

We travel
with a group of Germans through the same tourist agency as our first trip to Egypt.On a soggy, cold, gray October morning, we leave
Cologne, arriving in Istanbul’s glistening, modern Ataturk airport in warm
sunshine.I, as an American, have to buy
a visa at immigration, but Peter, as a German citizen, doesn’t have to.After picking up our baggage, we are met
immediately by our agent, who leads us into a van with a bunch of other Germans
traveling with the same company.Before
long, we view the sea, which is really a narrow stretch of water separating
Europe from Asia, on our right.But it’s
broad enough to remind me of the sea.We
drive on along an endless grass-lined beach, filled with families barbecuing,
enjoying Sunday off.You can almost
smell the mixture of meat and charcoal burning from our car, but the windows are
sealed shut.From this drive into the city,
we can already see that Istanbul is doing a lot better financially than Cairo.Everywhere we look, we see green trees and
lawn.OK – no desert here, so no
dust.But everything looks clean and
tidy too.The roads are in great shape,
the buildings we pass look like something we could live in, and the Bosphorus
looks awfully inviting for a swim.In
October!Back in Cologne, it’s in the 50’s.Here, we’re enjoying a balmy 80° Fahrenheit
on this sunny afternoon.In a way, it
reminds me of a California beach city filled with apartment buildings.The people we see picnicking look more like
the Turks we see in Germany – most of the women have headscarves on, but the
teenagers, kids and men are dressed like any European.

The Golden Horn, with the Galata Tower inthe center

It takes us
over an hour and a half to get to the hotel – Prime Minister Erdogan happens to
be officiating at the opening of a water purification plant which also just
happens to be on the road we’re driving on, so we pass car after car, red
Turkish flag after flag.Finally, we get
to the famous Golden Horn, a stretch of water turning inland from the sea.Our hotel is on the other side of the bridge,
in the modern, western part of Istanbul.The city’s many mosques are laid out in front of us, their slim minarets
gracing the blue sky.The city looks a
bit exotic, maybe like a movie set, with all those minarets, and yet fully
European.“There’s the Galata Bridge,”
says our escort.“And the tower over there.”I’ve heard of the Golden Horn, the Galata
Bridge and tower.I’ve seen them in
movies.But now, I can finally see the
whole thing.Now I know how they fit
into the rest of the city.

One of the
things I have discovered about living and traveling abroad is that a place
becomes one’s own as you actually physically begin to inhabit the squares and
buildings you may have heard about.You
may have seen Central Park a hundred times in movies, but until you’ve set foot
in it yourself, it can’t become a part of you.Now, Istanbul is already becoming a part of me.

We check
into a lovely hotel, the Larespark, located in the middle of a section of
Istanbul called Taksim Square.Four and
a half stars!Our room is roomy and
comfortable – western!Everything looks
so European.Well, why not?We are in Europe!

Later in
the evening, we meet our guide, Harun, a pleasant-looking man with laugh
wrinkles around his eyes.He’s got a
three-day beard, and looks like he’s under forty.Harun tells us we shouldn’t drink the water
in the hotel, but there’s no problem using it to brush our teeth.And I can eat the salads in the hotel with no
reservations – they use filtered water in their cooking!

Harun tells
us that our hotel is located in the most European, most progressive-thinking
part of Istanbul.It’s the area where
Orhan Pamuk lives when he’s in Istanbul.Pamuk won the Nobel Prize for literature in 2006.A waiter walks into our conference room, and Harun
tells us to order drinks.He first lists
all the non-alcoholic drinks we can choose from before he gets to the
alcohol.He announces that he will be
drinking juice, but we’re welcome to order alcohol if we want to.I order a raki,
expecting it to taste like the ouzo I
drank in Greece.It does taste of anise,
but I don’t like it.

Later in
the evening, Peter and I walk out onto Taksim Square.“This is THE hot spot of Istanbul,” he tells
me.It certainly appears so.There are people out all over, strolling
along the pedestrian zone outside our hotel.We pass fast-food restaurants and general stores selling everything from
toothpaste to animated stuffed animals that dance for us.Young men speak to us in English, trying to
get us to eat at their restaurants, but leave us alone when we say we’ve
already eaten.They don’t seem to have
that Egyptian pushiness.They’re more
like the hustlers in New York City.

It may not
be as exotic as Cairo, but I know I’m going to feel very comfortable here in
Istanbul.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

The other day I was helping a friend who is moving. One of the people helping her was a young man who is intellectually challenged, but who sometimes comes up with priceless comments. I was complaining to my friends about something I considered unfair, when he suddenly put the nail on the head. "Das Leben ist kein Wunschkonzert," he said. Life is not a "listener's choice" radio program.

It is a platitude to say that life is hard. Yet we all expect to somehow get through life unscathed, or at least healed from the worst of it. When we suffer, pray, and continue to suffer, we wonder what ever happened to God and all the promises of blessing we are told that God has in store for us. Where is the God of love? Is God on the side of God's children? Can we count on God to protect and help us when times get tough? I've been seeing and hearing about an awful lot of suffering lately.

Last July, our church community lost little Henrik, a sweet, lively, affectionate little four-year-old, to leukemia. Ever since he was diagnosed in May, we started praying diligently for him to be healed. There were some promising signs, but in the end, he died from a bowel infection he got from being so weakened from the chemotherapy. His mother shows the signs of this ravaging battle on her face, in her eyes. Did she lose the fight? Were all our prayers in vain?

Ever since my two trips to Egypt, I've been subscribing to a publication committed to helping and praying for Christians who are persecuted because of their faith - "Open Doors". Many of the prayer requests for this month come from Iraq. A team of workers from Open Doors traveled to the Kurdish area of northern Iraq in June. They say that the situation for Kurdish Christians has become less and less safe. I mentioned this fact to my husband. "They're doubly persecuted there," he said. "They're hated by the ethnic Iraqis because they're Kurdish, and hated by the Muslims because they're Christians."

I started thinking about martyrs. Christian martyrs. Everyone knows that six million Jews were killed by the Nazis in World War II. That's a lot of people. But I found out that 45 million Christians were murdered in the twentieth century because of their faith. In all of history, the estimates are that 70 million people have lost their lives because of their faith in Christ. But that means, over half of them were murdered in our "civilized" twentieth century! Since 2000, they estimate that around 105,000 Christians have been murdered every year because of their faith. That averages out at about one person every five minutes. What has happened to all their prayers for protection?

These people are asked by their church communities to not retaliate, but rather to live peacefully with their neighbors and to bless when they are being persecuted. Since the news about the anti-Muslim film has thrown huge tremors around the globe, Christians in Pakistan are feeling more oppression than ever. Does God care?

We in Germany hear a lot about the Euro crisis. Germans are being asked to foot much of the bill for a huge amount of Greek debt. Germans are worried because the crisis has spread to Spain and threatens to deepen in Italy, Ireland and Portugal. While we in Germany are living very well indeed, normal people in Greece are wondering where they're going to get enough money to buy a liter of milk. Hundreds of thousands of Greeks will have to go without heat this winter. In Greece, the suicide rate has jumped 30-40 per cent since the Euro crisis began. Does God hear the prayers of the Greeks crying out?

When I read the words of Jesus, I hear a different message from that of the prosperity preachers on TV. Jesus talked about "when you are persecuted". He talked about injustice all the time - about turning the other cheek, about going the extra mile, about blessing those who persecute us, about rejoicing and being glad when we are persecuted. He talked about bearing our yoke with us.

We protest about injustice. I am especially vociferous on this point. I expect to see fairness and justice, and am appalled when forced to see so much cruelty. But I think I've been missing the point along with most of the rest of us. I think Jesus wants us to hold fast to him, to let him suffer with us, to let him carry our crosses with us. He didn't ever promise that suffering would stop when we start following God seriously. In fact, it seems that, at least with Christians, that is a sure-fire way for the suffering to begin, especially if you live in certain countries.

If there were no domain called the "Kingdom of God," those of us who care about justice might just as well stop fighting for it. We'd be better off if we went home, ate popcorn, drank beer and watched TV. If this life with all its cruelty and injustice is all there is, what's the point of it all? I think we need to start looking somewhere else.

What would our lives look like if we could manage to bring our problems to God and leave them there? What if we could express our outrage at injustice to God, and then go on patiently with our lives, being peacemakers where we can, but where we can't make peace, allow the injustice to go on for as long as God allows it to? What if we could forgive those who offend us instead of mulling over all the details of the offense for a thousand times? What if we could enjoy the brilliant autumn leaves instead, accepting that in a month or so, they'll all be decaying on the ground? What if we could love God and trust in goodness, even while experiencing some of life's injustices? This kind of lifestyle makes no sense in a life lived solely on our terms, energized by our own power and inclinations. But today, the thought came to me that perhaps this is the way we ought to pray. It's the way I told God today I want to start living again. I forgot about this way of living when I got so caught up in fighting for my version of justice. My prayers are my faltering attempts to live the lifestyle that Jesus talked about in his Sermon on the Mount. I will have good days, and I will have bad. But living for these invisible, intangible ends is what a life of faith is really all about. Jesus promised another life after this one. Perhaps it won't be until then that we can enjoy justice, health, well-being and the fruit of all our good works. It is this eternity, which is an aspect of both now, when we live in the dimension that is called faith, and of a future life after this one, that my hero St. Francis believed in as he prayed:

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Welcome to my blog. If you know me already somewhere in this planet, now we can share our thoughts with another, whether we live within shared meal-time distance or only virtually. If we've never met, this is the time and place. Here's to our start!

Noreen

About Me

I am a transplanted American woman who ended up back in Europe, but not where her ancestors started out. I am a hybrid, like most of us Americans, a mixture of Cornwall, England too, I suppose, Denmark and paprika from Hungary.
I had German in high school for no other reason than that my dad had also studied German. I have no German ancestors, but ended up living here where I have spent over 20 years trying to make sense of what happended. I have also lived in Brussels, Belgium, and love traveling all over Europe. I am an American European, raised in Minnesota by evangelical Christians. I'm still trying to find my own place in God's Kingdom, constantly adding and discarding what I don't need anymore as I move through the ever-broadening landscape of that kingdom. I love life and am also scared of and scarred by it. I embrace the healing which is given to me by the King of that other domain I live in. I find much healing in words, so hopefully you can find a few helpful ones in my blog.
In this blog, I explore my experiences, both the struggles and supreme moments as a pilgrim on an expat journey. Enjoy!